Stray
by TheDevilsLovingBitch
Summary: She was brought in by Sanosuke, bloodied and beaten within an inch of her life. A set of swords stained with the blood of others at her hip. But if nothing else Kaoru has never been capable of turning aside those that are in need. Even if there is something dangerous about this small woman who calls herself Kagome. This is a stray dog who still has her "teeth". RATING TO CHANGE
1. Chapter 1

_thoughts_

_*****mental conversations*****_

**_amplified thoughts/meanings_**

* * *

She hurt.

Truth be told though hurt wasn't quite the proper term; regardless of how badly her body throbbed in agony. If she merely hurt than she would feel something more than the numbness that was creeping through her veins, threatening to consume her. The edges of her vision were beginning to darken and it was only instinct that kept her moving. If she passed out now then she was as good as dead. As dead as the thugs who had jumped her.

_Cowards._ Lips curled with a sense of contempt that not even exhaustion could stem. They had jumped her for the simple fact that she was a woman wandering about the darkened town without a single hint of an escort. Even the lightweight kisode, the color of maple in the ochre on cream coloring, and the ashen gray hakamas that were more suited for a man's outfit did nothing to disguise the fact that she was far too feminine to be a man.

As a teenager she probably would have stood there like a dump cow and screamed her head off for help, from someone who could no longer offer help. But it had been years since she had considered herself defenseless. Self-preservation had caused her to take the few lessons she had received at that more tender age with respect to swordplay to heart and perfect her own means of self defense. The fools hadn't noticed the blades resting comfortably at her left hip. The katana was sheathed above the shorter but just as deadly length of the wakizashi blade.

She would have gotten away scot-free if the overexertion had not caused a coughing fit. She was still sick it seemed despite the years spent overseas. It was then that the bigger of the thugs had attacked, the blunt edged cudgel that he had used as a weapon smashing into her back with all the force of some three hundred pounds behind the swing. It would have probably broken her back had it actually landed. And she had been foolish thinking that someone so big couldn't move fast and in the closed in area of the alleyway itself.

Feet stumbling, sandals snagging on the peddle-like stone of the walkway, azure eyes flickered beneath messed strands of ebony black hair. Her right arm hung limply at her side, dark crimson leaving from the edge of the jacket she was wearing and dripping towards the ground. Had she had the conscious mind she might have sought to cover the wound before she happened to leave a noticeable trail that anyone associated with the thugs could follow. But with a broken arm and possibly broken ribs covering her tracks were the least thing on her mind.

* * *

**SLIGHT SWITCH / Character Change**

The figure staggered out of the alleyway. Garbed within the confines of lightweight kisode, the color of maple in the ochre on cream coloring, and the ashen gray. But only a true fool would not notice the blades resting comfortably at the slender figure's left hip. The katana was sheathed above the shorter but just as deadly length of the wakizashi blade.

As for the being itself, stumbling, it leaned momentarily against one of the buildings before shoving away from the wood with a grunt. It was almost enough to knock the other off of their own feet if the left hand hadn't risen to steady the being against the other building. If anyone had been watching they would have immediately thought that the figure was drunk. But as the being moved out of the alley itself, a bloody handprint marked where the figure had rested their hand.

It was that handprint which caught the eye of one Sagara Sanosuke, the fist-fighter having just left one of the small-time gambling rings now that he had lost what little money he had. So caught up was he in his thoughts, wondering as to how he could explain the money for food went to fuel his little addiction, that he might not have noticed the blood. Might not of if not for the unmistakable tang of copper and salt that tickled his nostrils.

"What," beneath chocolate brown hair brown eyes narrowed. Someone had spilt blood.

But there was no denying the dark crimson, flickering softly in the light of the moon and the oil-fed street lights, that stained the wall in front of him. Breathe escaping through pursed lips, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, Sanosuke raised his hand. The blood was cool but still liquid enough that some of it came off on his gloved fingertips. Brows furrowing he weighed the pros and cons of looking inside the alleyway that the bloody handprint led from.

His feet shifted, his boots kicking one peddle out of the way and he froze. _What?_

There was either a ghost here or the peddles in this part of the town sounded like someone groaning when they hit the side of the building instead of the little crack he was used to.

No not a ghost.

There, sprawled out in front of the business which wouldn't open for another five or even six hours, was a small man. Man or woman? The figure was slender but still there was no denying the muscling underneath lightly tanned skin. After all wasn't Kenshin small? But the sex of the figure took a literal backseat in the depths of Sanosuke's mind as he realized the blood came from this being. The right sleeve of the kisode was soaked nearly black with blood, the crimson liquid already beginning to spread out in an increasing circle.


	2. Chapter 2

_thoughts_

_*****mental conversations*****_

**_amplified thoughts/meanings_**

* * *

"I do not understand how you can eat that," the voice, smooth in a fashion that served in raising the hairs along the back of one's neck as instinct forewarned of barely concealed threat in the low-toned voice, tore at wandering thoughts and lifted azure tinged eyes to the speaker.

Standing, one long fingered hand raised to keep the flap of the traveling tent from bashing against the other's frame while the opposite hand had settled with old confidence at the other's waist, close enough so that if the need should arise either of the two swords resting within their sheaths could be used in battle without unnecessary movement to reach them to begin with. It had been raining for the better half of the afternoon and well into the growing evening hours and the drizzle had darkened the once sky blue tinged hoati-like jacket until it was a deeper azure coloration. The dulled lighting past the other's frame, reflecting from a handful of torches or maybe even a fire site, only served in amplifying a haggard appearance that came from not days but months in seemingly endless battle and flight.

"Daidai peel helps with the lungs."

The claim might work if the plate was empty. But the peel, orange peel to be exact, was bitter to the tongue. It didn't matter that the doctors, scores of them, insisted that the fruit's skin would help in easing the heaviness of damaged lungs if the food itself was nearly impossible to consume. The sickness itself had been worsening throughout the seasons, barely noticeable during the heat of the summer and alternating from an irritating cough to something that was almost crippling through the months that happened to mark the transition from spring and fall and well into winter. As it was, though it was middle of summer edging into fall, the rain had made the illness nothing short of torture and made travel something of a hassle so much so that now it was beyond irritating, frustrating even, but if the others thought the same they had not voiced a word.

"And you were actually foolish enough to believe them, little one?" The nickname was earned for at 5'2'', this other was much smaller than some of the others. Lips twitched slightly, barely fighting down the smirk at the other's dry-toned voice. The older warrior solely lacked in social skills on a good day. With the recent turn of events his temper, though usually well kept, was beginning to weaken. As such the male did nothing to disguise the fact that he believed the doctors were nothing more than fools who had no idea as to what they were doing and as this sickness, which forced blood from the lungs in some of the worst coughing fits, had yet to lessen it was more than possible.

However, manners weren't lacking entirely in the small tent. A slender hand rose, gesturing at the taller man. "Don't just stand there. Sit…"

**END FLASHBACK / DREAM**

* * *

Breathe escaping in a wheezy sigh, body too exhausted from blood loss to start coughing despite the itch in her throat, azure eyes snapped open. For a moment Kagome Higurashi, once guardian of the accursed Shikon no Tama which with her miko abilities had returned to her body after the defeat of Naraku, could do nothing more than blink at the beige hued ceiling as her mind was awhirl with thoughts. The last thing she remembered was passing out just outside of the alleyway where the thugs had jumped her. But there was no dark heaven stretched over her.

_And if I am dead, I must have pissed off some god to be in such pain._ A hiss escaped through pursed lips as she shifted her weight slightly, her right side protesting even that gentle movement with a biting surge of pain. Her arm? Her ribs? The throb felt like a thousand needles pricking at her skin and made it virtually impossible to guess just where exactly the pain happened to be coming from. Her lungs thankfully felt like nothing more than a dull pain, a memory of a fouled weakness, compared to the rest of the aches and pains. She was better than she had been in months, no years, and had every intention of not getting as sickly as she had.

Back then, ten years ago, she had been on death's doorstep more than she wanted to admit. Mentally, once again, she cursed the fickleness of the gods. They had given her the ability to heal wounds, mend broken bones, and even cure sicknesses such as this by the time she had come to master the abilities that she had been born with. And yet stolen those abilities away. And when they might actually be useful in keeping her alive. She supposed something commented that it was only her resilience as to why she had survived this long and dogged determined.

_That and Sesshomaru did not raise me to be a weakling._ The inu-youkai, all those years ago, had begun to train her in the art of swordplay as a means of defending herself should she find herself with a broken bow and without one of the other's to call upon. The youkai had been a cruel task master. Had she been weak, like she had been when she first ventured into feudal Japan, she would have long since died to the disease plaguing her. The thing was, was that no one could have expected that as with her miko abilities the gods had decided to steal her home from her. The last time she had stepped through the Bone Eater's Well she hadn't gone back to modern Japan but jumped somewhere in between the Sengoku and modern era. Later 1800s to be exact.

So caught up was she in her thoughts, her troubled memories, that Kagome mentally cursed herself as the door slid open with a soft bang. Every instinct screamed move even if right now the best she could do was jerk her head towards the sound, narrowed eyes meeting with paler blue eyes widened in shock.

"Who are you?"

* * *

**AGES:**

Kenshin – 28

Kagome - mid to later 20s

Saito – 34

Will add as I go, but computer is extremely slow tonight and can't be bothered to wait.

**-.-**

**NOTE:** Yes I am aware the illness Kagome has sounds like tuberculosis, it isn't quite. I'll explain it further later.

**NOTE:** Kagome lost her miko abilities when the Shikon no Tama "disappeared". In all actuality it returned to its previous space, inside her body, and her abilities didn't disappear as they were spent / ruined in sealing the stone into nothing but a useless gemstone. Either way she is NOT a miko anymore.


	3. MOVING NOTICE

This account seems to have a glitched / hacked / compromised.

Outside of having stories disappear when they are supposed to be posted, at least half dozen stories have not appeared in the generalized search engine.

**As such I am moving to the account HuntedThisNight which is linked on my profile.**

If you wish to follow, link to that account. I will be moving everything - including this story - there shortly. I don't want to come back one day and find everything gone from this account because it glitched entirely.


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